Medieval 01 - Untamed

married to me,” Dominic continued relentlessly, talking over her. “I am the only husband you will ever have.”
    â€œAye. And I am your only wife. Until death do us part. Will you drive me to an untimely death in order that you might still be fertile when you wed again? Is that the danger that woke me cold and trembling?”
    â€œWhat nonsense is this?” he demanded.
    Abruptly Meg shuddered. The blood left her cheeks as chills coursed over her suddenly clammy skin.
    â€œDo you hear that?” she whispered.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œLaughter.”
    Dominic listened intently. “I hear naught.”
    â€œâ€™Tis John.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œLaughing. He knows his curse will be more potent than ever he was.” Shadowed green eyes fixed on Dominic. “You will die without sons.”
    Dominic’s hands whipped out, gripping Meg’s shoulders as though he thought she would flee him.
    â€œ I will have sons! ”
    â€œNay,” Meg whispered, ignoring the cool silver glide of tears down her face. “For a Glendruid son, love is required. There is no love in you, Dominic le Sabre.”

13
    B Y THE TIME S IMON CAME BACK to the keep, Dominic had changed out of his battle clothes and was sitting at ease in the lord’s solar off the great hall. What once had been a sickbed had been transformed just that morning into a couch for Dominic when he wished to speak with someone in a privacy the great hall didn’t permit.
    The topic at hand—what Simon had found along Meg’s back trail—definitely required such discretion. Meg’s pale, drawn face, haunted eyes, and unbroken silence as she rode pillion with him back to the keep had unsettled Dominic in ways he found difficult to describe, much less to understand.
    In addition to the privacy Dominic sought, the lord’s solar offered warmth to ease a chill that was as much of the heart as of the body. The fire burned brightly in the room’s big hearth, driving back the cold that was a combination of spring rain and building stones that still harbored the icy breath of winter. Even though the narrow, high windows were shuttered against the afternoon rain, the solar somehow managed to be more airy and inviting than any other room in the keep.
    â€œYou look like a wet hound,” Dominic said quietlyas Simon walked in, trailing rivulets of rain.
    â€œI feel like one.”
    â€œWarm yourself. We’ll talk in a moment.”
    While Simon stripped off his gauntlets and wet mantle and went to the fire, Dominic turned to the servant who waited at the doorway for his lord’s pleasure.
    â€œAle for my brother,” Dominic said. “Bread and cheese, too. Something hot—a soup?”
    â€œAye,” Simon said.
    â€œAnd while you’re about it, find out what is keeping Old Gwyn. I sent for her long ago.”
    â€œYes, lord.”
    Sitting upright, Dominic waited, listening to the sound of retreating footsteps. As he waited for the servant to get beyond the point where he might overhear what was said, Dominic’s hand went to the nearby trestle table where a gleaming heap of golden jewelry lay. Absently he stirred the baubles.
    A sweet, pure chiming filled the air, as though from captive songbirds with throats of purest gold.
    The delicate music came from chains of tiny golden bells that once had graced the wrists, ankles, hips, and waist of a sultan’s particularly favored concubine. After Dominic took the city, the woman had been returned unharmed to her sultan. Her golden jewelry had not.
    â€œHow is the peregrine?” Simon asked, reminded of the falcon by the sound of bells.
    In any case, Simon had no desire to raise the subject of Meg.
    â€œThe falcon progresses at uncanny speed,” Dominic said absently. “I took off her hood after I came from the forest. The bird showed no fear or fluttering. She came to my arm and my whistle as though born to it. Tomorrow eve I’ll take her into the bailey for a time. Soon I’ll let her ride on my wrist throughoutthe keep. Then we will course the skies together.”
    â€œExcellent,” Simon said, relieved that something was going well.
    â€œYes…”
    Dominic closed his eyes as though to better hear the elegant golden bells.
    â€œOne would almost believe she had been previously trained,” he said after a moment.
    â€œHas she?” Simon asked.
    â€œPossibly. I’m told